


she's beauty and she's grace

by LaufeiaEvans



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Female Steve Rogers, Forced Feminization, Gender or Sex Swap, Masturbation, Multi, Platonic Kissing, Steve and Natasha are bros, steve swears a lot, wow I accidentally hetero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-10 02:32:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2007708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaufeiaEvans/pseuds/LaufeiaEvans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither of them is quite sure when their nightly patrol mission had turned into a battle of wits against some psycho with a feminization kink, but at some point, Steve had been hit dead-on with a magical beam of some kind that left him unmistakably female.</p>
<p>(Or Natasha Has Way Too Much Fun With Her New Best Girlfriend And Steve Can't Get A Damn Clue)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"This fucking sucks."  
Most people think of Steve Rogers as a pure, clean-cut goody two shoes from 1940 who has never uttered a single cuss word in his life. But Natasha is not most people, and she is perfectly aware that under the right circumstances, Steve swears like a damn sailor.  
Like right now.  
"I mean, what the fuck are they trying to accomplish here?" Steve growls, hobbling along behind Natasha in sneakers that are now at least three sizes too big.  
Natasha snorts. "Maybe HYDRA's got a secret fetish."  
Steve glares at her. He wraps one arm tightly across his chest, holding a pair of large breasts firmly in place. The other hand is clutching his helmet, which he has removed to accommodate the long blonde hair he is now sporting.  
Neither of them is quite sure when their nightly patrol mission had turned into a battle of wits against some psycho with a feminization kink, but at some point, Steve had been hit dead-on with a magical beam of some kind that left him unmistakably female. His muscular build has been replaced by a curvy hourglass figure with legs a mile long. His face is soft and feminine, and his blonde hair now cascades down his back in waves.  
"It's like a fucking horror movie gone wrong," Steve mutters.  
"More like a bad porno gone wrong." Natasha smirks and turns to face him. He looks extremely flustered, desperately trying to hide how the tightness of his uniform accentuates his new figure. Natasha is suddenly glad that they're walking home in the dark.  
"You get used to it," she says gently, nodding at the arm clutching his chest. Her lips quirk up in a small smile. "Although it would probably help if you were wearing a bra."  
Steve smacks her across the arm, and she dodges, laughing. "Come on," she says, picking up her pace. "We're almost home. We can sort this out there."

Home for them these days is Stark Tower, which has been outfitted with a full apartment for each member of the team. Steve isn't used to that sort of luxury, and had at first preferred to stay in his own apartment, but once it became clear that they would need to be working together again, he conceded to Pepper's suggestion that he take one of the floors in the Tower. It's nice, he admits - his apartment is fully stocked with a kitchen, multiple bedrooms, and even a training room in addition to the larger gym several floors down. It had clearly been designed with him in mind. Stark had even attempted to limit the advanced technology on his floor, opting for a more conventional look and feel. It wasn't quite home, but Steve had become accustomed to it.  
Now, though, they pass over his floor entirely and head right for Natasha's. She is silent throughout the elevator ride, though Steve catches her occasionally glancing over at him with a grin on her face. He shifts uncomfortably, desperately wishing to change into just about anything other than what he is wearing now.  
The doors open and Natasha immediately strides off, walking with purpose down the hallway to her bedroom. Steve follows behind, but hesitates outside her doorway.  
"You can come in," she says over her shoulder, soon disappearing into the closet. Steve cautiously steps inside. He isn't sure what he expects to find, but it certainly isn't a large, completely ordinary-looking bed that looks like it hadn't been slept on in weeks. Even he isn't the type to completely make his bed every morning. He's about to comment on that, but thinks better of it as he realizes that he probably doesn't want to know.  
"What's your cup size?" Natasha asks nonchalantly, and he's about to answer before he realizes she's fucking with him.  
He groans audibly and flops down on her bed. He can hear her snickering as she sorts through her clothes.  
"Let's try a 36C and see how that works." Something lands on his chest and he looks down to see a plain black bra. Natasha comes back holding a grey T-shirt and jeans. She nods at the bra. "Put that on. I won't look."  
Steve sits up awkwardly as she sets the clothes down beside him and turns away. He tugs at the fabric of his uniform, desperate to get it off. It fits tighter now over his chest and hips, but he manages to wriggle out of it and leave it in a heap on the floor.  
He takes a moment to look down at himself. He's never actually seen a naked woman before, not outside of photos. He can tell he looks good, even from this angle - whoever did this definitely had looks in mind. He's stretching out his legs when he suddenly realizes that Natasha is waiting for him. He decides to save the examination for later, when he's alone.  
It takes a few minutes to figure out how to put the bra on properly. The clasp is ridiculous and he's pretty sure there are much better ways to design one. When he finally gets it on the way he thinks it's supposed to go, he twists around, testing the fit.  
"Good?" says Natasha suddenly, her back still turned. He laughs silently at her attempts to preserve his modesty.  
"You can look," he says, smirking. "Nothing you haven't seen before."  
She smiles as she turns around, examining the fit. "Looks good, she says proudly. "Is it comfortable?"  
"Not really," he says honestly, tugging at the straps. "But I get the feeling it's not supposed to be."  
"Now you're getting it." She winks and hands him the T-shirt, which he puts on quickly. It fits fine, and he notices that it accentuates his new chest well, but not immodestly so. With the jeans, he's less lucky.  
"Do they have to be so tight?" he whines, shifting his hips.  
"Thought you'd be used to tight pants by now, Cap."  
"Yeah, but my hips were never this big before." He runs a hand over his right side. The waistband barely comes up past his hipbone and cuts sharply into his skin. And the legs leave almost nothing to the imagination.  
"You look fine," Natasha assures him. She hands him a black elastic that he takes a second to realize is for his hair. "Now we better get back to HQ. We're lucky they let us come back here before the debriefing."

In her career at SHIELD, Natasha has seen Nick Fury deal with some pretty weird missions. And while she's not quite sure that this can qualify as the weirdest, it certainly comes close.  
"Did you see who did it?" Fury has a look on his face like he can't believe this is his life.  
"No, sir," Steve mutters, pointedly not looking him in the eye.  
"We tried to go after whoever it was, but they had vanished," Natasha supplies helpfully.  
"I assume it's some kind of magic," Steve suggests. "I don't think the technology exists to do this much...damage."  
Fury looks like he's trying way too hard not to think of what damage Steve is referring to.  
"We'll have a team of agents sent to find the culprit. Female agents," he adds, giving Steve a once over. Steve blushes.  
"And me?" Natasha asks, because she's pretty sure Fury isn't including her in that group.  
Fury pauses for a long time before saying, "You'll be assigned to looking after Captain Rogers until we can find a way to reverse this."  
"Babysitting duty, my favorite!" She smiles. "Hey, at least we wear the same bra size."  
That looks to be far more than Fury can handle at the moment. "Meeting adjourned. Get the hell out of my office."  
Steve looks extremely self-conscious as they make their way down the hall. "Hey," Natasha whispers, nudging him gently. "Remember, none of these people know who you are. You just look like a girl. And a pretty one at that."  
Steve nods, straightening a little. "That...that helps. Thanks."  
Natasha smiles. "It's my job now." She pauses a moment before snickering. "God, wait until Stark gets a load of you."  
Steve immediately turns a deep red. "What?"  
Natasha snickers again, shit-eating grin on her face. "If he wanted to jump your bones before, just wait until he sees you like this." She's laughing now, more than most people have seen her laugh.  
Steve looks utterly perplexed. "What...what do you mean he wants to 'jump my bones'?"  
That's when Natasha realizes two things. One, euphemisms and Steve do not mix. And two, Steve is completely blind to how badly Stark wants to fuck him.  
She considers elaborating, but thinks better of it and smiles gently. "Never mind. Now come on, let's go get something to eat. You've gotta be starving."


	2. Chapter 2

As it turns out, this transformation has done nothing to curb Steve's appetite. He scarfs down an entire cheeseburger in less than five minutes, realizing for the first time how long it's been since he's eaten anything. Natasha is eyeing him from across the table.  
"Not very ladylike of you, Captain," she quips, raising an eyebrow.  
He glares at her, mouth still full. "S'cus I'm not a lady."  
"Well you look like one." She kicks him gently under the table. "Start acting like it."  
He looks up at her, swallowing. "I'm sorry, I must have missed the part where we got sent back to 1940."  
Natasha kicks him again. "Just eat your food. And don't choke."  
After their meal, she decides that Steve needs to go clothes shopping. While he doesn't even want to entertain the possibility of being in this state for more than a day at most, he realizes that it's something he has to prepare for, and reluctantly agrees. Natasha drags him into the nearest department store with a huge grin on her face. He suppresses a groan and follows her into the women's section.  
"Okay, we should probably get you a bra of your own to start." She eyes his chest critically and he fights the urge to cover himself. "Maybe a sports tank. And some camisoles. Do you normally wear undershirts?"  
He blinks. This is a lot to take in. "Um, I guess?"  
She nods, already heading in another direction. "I'll start with something basic. Black, white, and nude."  
By the time he catches up with her, she's already emerging from behind a sale rack with five tank tops in varying colors. She has the basic ones she mentioned, as well as two lacy numbers in pink and blue.  
"I'm not wearing those," he says firmly, hands on hips.  
She chuckles. "Aw, come on. This one brings out your eyes." She holds up the blue top, pressing it against his chest. He scowls, ducking away, and she laughs harder.  
"All right, all right. No fancy ones." She puts the lacy tops back, leaving only the black, white, and nude. She shoves those into his arms.  
"Okay, we've got that covered. Now onto shirts."  
By the time Natasha is finished, he's pretty sure he has a wardrobe that could last him a year. He's done his best to limit the amount of frills and bright colors, but she's very persuasive, and she manages to talk him into a few fancy accessories. His personal favorite is a blue and white striped hoodie that feels softer than anything he's ever worn. Natasha also picks up a few girly pairs of underwear and several hair accessories - "Your new style is just too gorgeous to not play around with." - along with the basic jeans and tank tops. Steve draws the line at skirts. He's not a huge fan of the form-fitting clothing girls wear nowadays, but it's better than feeling like he's not wearing anything at all.  
Finally, they're nearly finished. They reach the shoe section and Steve relaxes. He can deal with women's sneakers, and he already sees a few plain styles he likes. But Natasha isn't headed for the sneakers.  
"Nat, what are you..." he starts, but stops dead when he sees what she's eyeing. It's a pair of black leather boots with buckled straps and four-inch heels. She turns to look at him with a huge, sly grin.  
"No. No, no, absolutely not." He crosses his arms defiantly. "I am not fucking wearing those."  
"Come on, Cap," she teases, and he glances around nervously. Luckily, they're alone.  
"No. I'm not wearing skirts and I'm sure as hell not wearing those."  
"You'd look hot," she argues, picking up one of the shoes. "Powerful. Like a bad bitch."  
"I am not a bad bitch," he says. "I'm Captain America."  
"Captain America can be a bad bitch."  
He doesn't dignify that with a response.  
"Fine," she sighs dramatically, putting the shoe back. "I guess that's a no on the lingerie as well?"  
"That was never an option."  
"You wound me, Steve," she says, hand to her chest. He fights back a smile. "What happens if you get laid?"  
He scoffs. "While I'm a girl? Not likely."  
She snorts, but doesn't say anything. He rolls his eyes. "Let's just get some damn shoes and leave."

When they get back to the tower, Natasha follows Steve into his apartment without a second thought. They dump the shopping bags on his couch and Nat immediately reaches for the one with his new hair accessories.  
"What the hell are you doing?"  
"Getting ready," she says simply, flopping down on the couch and rifling through the bag.  
"For what?"  
She grins. "To do your hair, of course. Come sit." She gestures to the space at her feet.  
He looks like he's going to argue, but thinks better of it and gives in. She grins as he settles himself on the floor in front of her.  
"Oh, that is beautiful," she gasps, running her fingers through his long hair. Neither of them is quite sure why becoming female meant he had to have long hair, but now Natasha can certainly see the appeal. It's obvious that whoever did this had looks in mind, and Steve's new soft locks are a testament to that.  
Natasha grabs a paddle brush out of the shopping bag and slides the elastic out of Steve's hair. She brushes out the tangles with practiced ease, fluffing up the waves and being careful not to tug too hard. Steve is silent, but her intuition tells her that he's enjoying it.  
"What kind of style do you want?" she asks, sure he won't have an answer.  
"Um," he mutters, and she smiles. "I don't know...something easy?"  
As much as she wants to leave his hair free, she's sure he'll tangle it at some point. An updo would be the best way to go.  
"Braids, then," she says, and grabs a section of hair.  
Nearly all female SHIELD agents know how to braid hair, as it's one of the easiest styles for physically demanding work. But Natasha also knows how to do very elaborate braided styles. She works quickly, pulling Steve's hair back in a diagonal French braid. She ties it off at the nape of his neck and leaves the rest to hang down over his shoulder. Searching through the shopping bag, she finds a barrette adorned with plastic red, white, and blue flowers. She snickers and fastens it at the base of the braid.  
"She's beauty and she's grace, she's queen of fifty states," she sings, admiring her handiwork.  
"What did you do?" She can hear his unamused glare.  
"Go look," she says, patting him on the shoulder. He stands up immediately and heads for the bathroom.  
Natasha stays back, reaching into her purse for her makeup kit. If she's beautifying Steve, she may as well go all out. Whether he likes it or not.  
Makeup in hand, she follows after Steve to the bathroom. He stares at his reflection, gently touching his hair. It occurs to her that this is the first time he's seen himself since the incident.  
"What do you think?" she asks, leaning against the doorway.  
Steve doesn't look at her, still staring transfixed at the mirror. "It's...nice." He blinks and turns back to her, shaking his head to clear it. "I-I like it. Thanks."  
She smiles genuinely. "Any time. But now..." She dangles the bag in front of him.  
"Is that..."  
She nods. "To complete the look."  
Steve swallows hard, but nods. "If you insist."

Steve isn't quite sure why Natasha insists on treating him like a giant Barbie doll, especially since he's just going to go to bed in a couple of hours anyway and will have to take off all the makeup. But he decides it's best to humor her, since arguing with Natasha doesn't usually end well. He lets her brush foundation all over his face, blush on his cheeks, and an unholy amount of lipstick over his mouth. She skips the eye makeup, since it's "a bitch to get off and not really worth it."  
When he finally gets rid of her, though not without receiving a long lecture on the finer points of makeup removal, he's exhausted. He sighs and gathers up the rest of the shopping bags.  
It isn't until he reaches his bedroom that he notices something silky and unfamiliar in one of the bags. He reaches for it, and to his utter shock pulls out a lacy blue-and-white babydoll top with matching panties.  
He's livid for a moment before he realizes that he doesn't actually have to wear them. It's a harmless prank, and really, it's Natasha's credit card that suffered. He shakes his head, laying the offending item down on the bed. Maybe he'll think of a way to get her back later.  
He's heading into the master bathroom when he catches sight of himself in the mirror, and he stops, staring. This female Steve really is gorgeous, and he can tell that a lot of thought was put into how she ought to look. Now, with Natasha's stylistic expertise, he feels...pretty. It wasn't something he'd ever thought about before, but faced with the situation, he decides that it's not as bad as he would have thought.  
Realizing that he's now alone, he slips off his T-shirt and allows himself to get a good look at this new body. He's slim, but still muscular, and his physical strength hasn't seemed to diminish. He's also very curvy, and without a shirt on, he notices the jut of his hipbones above the jeans and the heavy amount of cleavage he now shows.  
He unbuttons his jeans and braces himself as he pulls them down. He had realized before that the transformation affected all of his anatomy, but it was one thing to know it and another to be looking right at the evidence. He isn't sure whether he's prepared to be looking at a female version of himself naked in the mirror, but soon his curiosity gets the better of him and he strips down the rest of the way.  
It's sort of ridiculous that the first time he sees a naked woman, it's himself. He isn't as aroused by the sight as he might have expected, but there's something he finds inexplicably exciting about seeing himself as a woman. His eyes flicker back to the bed. The lingerie is still laid out on it. He remembers errantly Natasha's comment about how blue brings out his eyes. She must have picked this out for him when he wasn't looking, selecting an ensemble that would be particularly flattering on his new body. He laughs briefly. Classic Natasha.  
Checking around him to be sure that he is, in fact, alone, Steve creeps out to the bedroom and picks up the top. It can't hurt to try it on, just once, just to see. He pulls off the tags and takes a deep breath before sliding it over his head.  
It fits perfectly. Somehow Natasha had figured out his exact size and found it. He stares down at the fabric resting on his bare skin. It feels wonderful, the smooth, silky texture sliding against his stomach. He cups his breasts, perfectly fitted in the lacy bra top.  
The panties are still lying on his bed, and he reaches for them, removing the tag quickly and slipping them on over his long legs.  
Sitting down on the bed, he notices an unmistakable wetness between his thighs. He can't even begin to fathom why he's getting turned on by sitting around in blue lingerie in a completely different body, but at the moment, he realizes he doesn't care. Slowly, carefully, he slides a hand into the panties.  
He closes his eyes and allows his mind to wander. He imagines a woman's hand reaching down into his pants, stroking him gently, her fingers sliding into him as he moans, back arching. He reaches up with his other hand to cup his breast, massaging gently. He imagines a voice whispering in his ear, only it isn't the woman, it's a deep male voice. "You're beautiful like this," he says, and Steve moans aloud. "Such a pretty girl."  
For some ungodly reason, his brain chooses that moment to remember the crack Natasha had made about Stark. He hadn't gotten around to looking up what "jump your bones" meant, but he could guess from the way Natasha had reacted. He wasn't really in the mood to think deeply about that, but as he's caught up in his fantasy, the man's voice begins to take on a familiar tone.  
"God, I've wanted you so long," the voice growls, and Steve bites back a whimper as he picks up his pace, swirling a finger around what he realizes is a clitoris.  
"Tony," he moans, and he doesn't bother to acknowledge how weird this entire situation actually is, because it just feels good and he doesn't really care.  
He slides his fingers deeper, fucking himself as he bucks his hips at an imaginary Tony, exploring Steve's new body and whispering filthy things in his ear. Steve bites down on his lower lip as he comes, legs shaking with the force of the best orgasm he's ever had.  
He slides off the panties with a groan as he realizes just how tired he is. He barely manages to reach for a pair of less fancy underwear and pull them on before rolling over and falling asleep almost immediately, not bothering to think about the fantasy he had just had or how much he had enjoyed Natasha's surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder that there's actually scientific evidence to support the fact that the female orgasm is overall more pleasurable than the male orgasm, so Steve is in for some big surprises. ;D


	3. Chapter 3

When a check-in with Fury reveals that SHIELD has gotten nowhere with the mission and Steve is in for a probable few days stuck with his current state, Natasha decides that they're going to have a sleepover.  
"It'll be fun," she crows, resting her chin on her hands and batting her eyelashes. Steve cocks an eyebrow.  
"Puppy dog eyes don't work on me," he says, amused. "But nice try."  
She sighs, giving up the act. "Please? I haven't had a female friend since Pepper." She had always been too busy for "girl things."  
"Not a fucking girl," Steve grumbles automatically, always on the defensive.  
"But I can braid your hair."  
"No."  
Natasha sighs. "You know, by this point, most people would have caved out of sheer terror." She studies him, searching for a reaction. There isn't one.  
"I'm not scared of you," Steve answers without thinking, and that catches her off guard.  
"Why not?"  
"Because we're friends."  
She pauses. "Friend" isn't really a term she hears too often. In her line of work, and with her experiences, it's unwise at best and a one-way ticket to Hell at worst.  
"Really?" she asks, her voice soft. Steve looks up.  
"If you want to be."  
Natasha nods. She feels...touched, to be honest. "Okay."  
He gives her a small smile and sighs begrudgingly. "And I guess that means we can have a damn sleepover."  
She grins. "Knew you'd give in." She stands up, offering him her hand. "I know just where to start."  
She leads him up the elevator to her apartment, several floors above the common area where they had eaten breakfast. She decides to spare him the hassle of a makeover, having already put him through that torture, and opts instead for expanding his pop culture knowledge while practicing her hair-braiding skills.  
Steve settles in on the couch while Natasha flips through her DVD collection. Most of her movies are upstairs in Clint's apartment, but she's kept a few to herself, and the one she wants is right here. If Steve notices how bland and empty her entertainment center is, he doesn't comment on it. She smiles as she finds the right movie, carefully snapping open the case and sliding the DVD into the player.  
"This is all you need for chick flicks," she explains, joining Steve on the couch. "Pretty good lesson in music history, too, or at least the more recent stuff."  
"It's a musical?"  
"Of course." She settles in beside him, reaching for his hair. He grunts but doesn't stop her.  
He's quickly engrossed in the film. Natasha considers Moulin Rouge to be one of the most important films that Steve has missed. It's her favorite chick flick, and she can tell right away that Steve enjoys it too, for all he's confused.  
"What the hell does the narcoleptic have to do with anything?"  
"Just wait," she tells him, grinning. "It all makes sense, I promise."  
She watches him carefully, and as the story unfolds, she can tell he's emotionally invested. During Come What May, he's already tearing up.  
"It's not even at the sad part yet," she teases, and he laughs nervously, wiping his eyes.  
"Sorry," he says in a shaky voice. "It's...that whole secret relationships thing. It's kind of..." He trails off, waving a hand noncommittally.  
She studies his face. "Familiar?" she offers.  
He nods. "You could say that."  
She nods understandingly and pats him on the arm. She's not quite sure what he means by that, but she doesn't want to push. They watch the rest of the movie in silence save for Steve sniffling periodically. He openly weeps at Satine's death, and Natasha begins to wonder just how much of the movie he can relate to.  
During the end credits, he takes a deep breath and smiles weakly at her. "Was your goal for this to get me to cry?"  
She smiles. "That's what girls do at sleepovers, didn't you know?"  
He laughs, shaking his head. She claps him on the back.  
"Come on, let's do something fun. I've got some of Clint's recipes. We can make cookies or something."  
"That sounds great, actually," he says, composing himself and standing up to follow her into the kitchen.

As it turns out, the recipe she had in mind was for the most intensely chocolatey cookies Steve has ever seen. He realizes as he retrieves Clint's secret stash of instant coffee (cleverly hidden from Stark lest he react unfavorably to the fact that such an abomination has been brought into his home) that in 2013, people don't fuck around when it comes to baking. He has yet to decide if this is a good thing.  
While he measures and Natasha mixes, they talk. It's mostly mindless conversation and playful banter, but Natasha being Natasha, she decides she can't let the evening pass without making any awkward comments.  
"Did you like the present I got you?"  
Steve stops pouring flour to fix her with a deadly glare. She snickers.  
"Not fucking funny."  
"Hey, like I said, just in case you wanna have some fun."  
"How often do you really think I do that?"  
"Not making any assumptions, I just figured you'd be curious."  
"That's not exactly high on my fucking priority list at the moment."  
She doesn't respond, and Steve thinks the conversation is over, but of course he's wrong.  
"Have you tried masturbating yet?"  
He drops the flour.  
Natasha instinctively ducks, and his swing misses her by a hair's breadth. She pops back up, laughing her ass off, and he crouches down to pick up the flour, hiding his bright red face. He fumbles, and winds up coating half the floor in white. Swearing loudly, he resurfaces, unceremoniously throwing the bag down on the counter.  
Once Natasha has composed herself, she returns to her mixing, muttering under her breath. "I think that counts as an answer."  
"Shut the fuck up."  
"How was it?"  
"I'm serious."  
"Better as a girl? I hear it is. Be interesting to know for--"  
"I said shut up!" He shouts, doing the first thing that comes to mind and tossing a handful of flour at her. She stares openmouthed and for a moment he is fully prepared to die before a grin breaks out on her face. She reaches for an egg and before he can process what's happening, her hand comes down hard on top of his head and he can feel the shell break, egg whites oozing through his hair.  
"That was perfectly braided!" he shrieks, and she cackles. He lunges toward her and she takes off running, starting a wild goose chase into the living room. She yelps as he almost catches her, clutching at her sides. She breaks free from his grip and spins around, only to fall backwards over the arm of the couch with a shriek. He follows suit, plummeting directly on top of her, their bodies pressed uncomfortably close.  
"Um. Hi." His face flushes.  
"Hiya."  
Their lips meet, and Steve is shocked to say the least, but at that point the only thing he can think to do is just go with it. Maybe Natasha wants a lesbian experience. He's not sure, but it's certainly not unpleasant, and not the strangest thing he's ever done.  
It's short and doesn't escalate into anything else, mostly because the oven dings after a few seconds. "Back to work," says Natasha, sounding amused and entirely unfazed. Steve nods and climbs off of her, working his way back to the kitchen. She follows, brushing off the flour on her face.  
It's a while before he can think of something to say, but Natasha beats him to it. "I think girl you is a better kisser."  
If possible, Steve turns ever redder. "Um."  
She grins at him. "Kidding. Hand me the flour?"

Once the cookies are in the oven and they've had a chance to clean themselves off, they retreat back to the couch. Natasha slips into the bathroom and searches through the few things she's kept here. She returns to the living room clutching a bottle of red nail polish. Steve sees it and his eyes widen.  
"Oh no," he says quietly.  
"Oh yes." She settles in next to him and removes the cap, propping her feet up on the coffee table and brushing the polish over her toes.  
"I thought that was for me," he says, sounding confused.  
"It can be." She finishes her feet and replaces the cap, handing him the bottle. "But I need you to do my hands."  
He snorts. "You're a highly trained assassin and you don't have the dexterity to paint your own damn nails?"  
"Training or not, I'm still right-handed." She splays her fingers out before him and nods encouragingly. He unscrews the cap and very carefully swipes the brush across her thumbnail.  
"Just don't let it pool up," she tells him, and he complies. He works slowly and carefully and does a pretty decent job.  
"Not bad, Captain," she muses, admiring his handiwork. He replaces the cap and sets down the nail polish. Natasha waves her hands around to dry them.  
"Your turn now?"  
He sighs, and she revels in the small victory. "Just the toes," he clarifies.  
"Just the toes," she agrees, and reaches for the bottle.  
Keeping nail polish from getting smudged is a skill that most men do not have, she realizes. But in the end, it doesn't look half bad.  
"All done," Natasha says proudly, setting the bottle down. "Now we wait."  
"How long do we have?"  
She checks the kitchen clock. "Clint usually bakes them for about 20 minutes. It's been 9 minutes, so in...11 we'll take them out."  
Steve looks up at her. "Do you bake with Clint a lot?"  
Her expression suddenly darkens as she processes the hidden meaning behind his words. She doesn't meet his eyes. "You could say that."  
She hopes he'll stop there, but she knows he won't, and technically she does owe him.  
"What's going on with you two anyway?"  
Natasha pauses for a long time, but he waits, and she knows she has to answer eventually. He knows her too well, she decides.  
"It's complicated," she says finally.  
"Do you love him?"  
He blurts it out so quickly she's almost sure he hadn't meant to say it. Truth be told, she has no idea how to answer.  
"Love is for children."  
"No it's not."  
Natasha is generally vey good at keeping her emotions in check. But Steve is smart. Too smart. He can tell she doesn't fully believe that, and she knows it.  
She sighs, quiet but noticeable. Steve had said they were friends. He had said a lot more than that, and for the first time in a while, she feels she can trust him.  
"We're married."  
Clearly, he wasn't expecting that at all.  
"You're what?"  
"Married," she repeats. "For several years now."  
"Wow, I..." He's stunned. "I had no idea."  
She's not looking at him. "It's technically classified. Especially since it's breaking a lot of SHIELD protocols. But...yes. We're married."  
"I thought love was for children," he says testily.  
She looks up at him and raises an eyebrow. He'd seen through her from the beginning. Damn him.  
"Like I said," she says slowly. "It's complicated."  
They've made far too many cookies to eat between the two of them, but decide to hold off on sharing them for a while. The biggest reason is that Steve doesn't want to be seen by anyone else while he's like this. Natasha reminds him that he's going to have to face the music eventually, but for now he's not interested in that, so she drops it. They sit in the living room with the plate of fresh cookies between them, Natasha casually flipping through the Netflix queue to find their next movie.  
Steve isn't sure why it catches his eye, but he notices one of the category titles.  
"Gay and Lesbian Movies?" he says incredulously. Natasha snorts.  
"What, they didn't have those in 1945?"  
"It was a tad bit illegal back then."  
"Fair enough."  
"Why is that a recommended category for you?"  
She looks at him sideways. "You remember me kissing you, right? Female you? That wasn't just wiped from your brain?"  
He rolls his eyes. "I assumed there wasn't anything behind it. And speaking of which, what are you doing kissing me when you've got a husband?"  
"Damn, caught in the act." She winks at him. "It's fine. Clint understands. And you're right, there's nothing behind it, but that doesn't mean I'm not attracted to you."  
"So that's...that's a thing? You know..." He gestures to her.  
"Swinging both ways?"  
"Is that what they call it?"  
"The technical term is 'bisexual,' but that's what it means." She turns back to the TV. "Although to be honest, I think that's on there because Clint watched Brokeback Mountain one too many times."  
Steve ignores the reference and instead stares off into space. "Makes a lot of sense, actually."  
She looks back to him, some of the pieces suddenly fitting together. "Are you...?"  
Slowly, hesitantly, he nods. "I...I think so."  
Captain America liking men. Well that's a new one.  
"Hey, no judgments. Obviously." She flips through some of the gay movies. Yeah, this is definitely on here because of Clint.  
"I know. Um--" He starts to say something, but looks like he isn't quite sure how to get the words out. She waits.  
"Remember what I said earlier? About--about the secret relationships?"  
She snorts. "When you were crying your eyes out? Yeah." She sobers when she sees the look on his face. "Why?"  
"I...I had that. Sort of." He swallows hard. "With Bucky."  
She remembers hearing about Bucky in her training at SHIELD. He was Steve's second in command and his best friend. But she never knew they were that close.  
She finds herself reaching for his hand. "I'm sorry," she says sincerely.  
He nods, and looks like he's trying desperately not to cry. "It's fine. I've had some time to get over it. It's just...hard, you know?" He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "And with Peggy, I kinda thought, hey, maybe I'm not queer or anything and I can just be fucking normal for once, but that didn't really work out too well."  
"It's different now," she says, rubbing circles on his hand with her thumb. "You know that."  
"Oh of course it is. I'm not denying that. But it's still hard."  
"Trust me, I know."  
They sit there like that for a moment when Natasha suddenly speaks. "You know what? I've got the perfect movie." She flips through a few more titles before coming across Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. "Guaranteed to make you laugh your ass off."  
Steve chuckles. "Sounds pretty good."  
Natasha beams and gives his hand a light squeeze before reaching for the cookies. She shoves one into his hand and takes another herself, hitting the play button and snuggling into Steve's side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Steve have a purely platonic relationship, with occasional kissing and cuddles. Clint is indeed okay with this.  
> Also, this is set just before CATWS, but in an AU where they all live in Stark tower (because it's easier). But Steve and Nat are still working closely together, which is why they're such good friends.


	4. Chapter 4

They sleep curled up in Natasha's immaculately made bed. It occurs to Steve that this may be the first time she's slept there rather than in Clint's. He lets her drape an arm around his shoulders, his head lying on her chest. There's nothing romantic about the gesture at all, but it's a sign of her newfound trust in him that she allows him to be so close while she's asleep. He finds it warm and comforting.  
When he wakes up, the bed is empty, and Natasha is nowhere to be found. Steve sits up and stretches. He reaches for his hair absentmindedly, and cringes when he realizes how tangled it is. Natasha had washed it out for him after their scuffle the night before, and apparently sleeping with wet, curly hair is a bad move. He sighs and stands up, heading for the bathroom.  
He finds a comb in one of her nearly empty drawers and gets to work picking at the knots. Memories of their conversations from the night before surface, and he realizes that they now know things about each other that hardly anyone else has ever known. At least for him, the only other person who ever knew about his sexuality was Bucky. He'd never discussed it with anyone else. He didn't know how.  
Now, though...  
He and Natasha had both made it very clear that they weren't interested in each other as anything more than close friends. But their friendship was growing incredibly strong. Steve isn't sure he's ever been this close with anyone aside from Bucky.  
He decides that he's extremely happy with it.  
He finishes brushing his hair and digs out an elastic, throwing it into a halfhearted ponytail before flipping off the lights and heading for the elevator. Natasha's apartment is entirely empty, and he suspects that she's down in the common area.  
Sure enough, when he reaches the main floor, she's at the kitchen table, chin resting on her hands as she stares into the living room. He follows her gaze and sees Tony, Bruce, and the plate of cookies from the night before. It's nearly empty.  
He slips into the kitchen and sits beside Natasha. "The cookies were a hit, then?"  
She grins. "Absolutely. Stark almost passed out."  
Upon hearing their voices, the man in question glances over at them. His eyes widen as he sees Steve. "Who's your friend?" he says, mouth full of chocolate.  
Natasha quirks an eyebrow at Steve, as if asking for permission. He gives a small nod. She looks back to Tony, face completely deadpan.  
"She's my lover."  
Steve almost chokes. Tony's jaw drops. Natasha smirks.  
"She..."  
Steve decides to play along, snaking an arm around Natasha's waist. "Yup."  
Bruce is remarkably silent, and Steve wonders for a moment if he knows they're fucking with him.  
"You're...you're LESBIANS?" yelps Tony.  
"Bisexuals," Steve corrects without thinking, and Natasha giggles.  
"Holy shit."  
"And no, you can't watch," Natasha adds as Tony opens his mouth again. He closes it defiantly, glaring at her.  
Steve decides to lean over and whisper into her ear. What he actually says is, "how long do you think we can keep fucking with him?" but Natasha seems to indicate that it's something much worse. She stares at Tony, licking her lips. "Ooh, maybe," she drawls, just loud enough for the boys to hear. Steve plays along, looking coyly over at him and winking. He looks like he's going to rupture something.  
Suddenly, Bruce bursts into a fit of laughter. They all turn to stare at him in surprise as he doubles over, wiping tears from his eyes. It takes him a moment to regain his composure, and as he sits up he glances over at Steve, which causes him to burst out laughing again.  
Natasha drops the act, glaring at him. "Way to ruin it, Bruce."  
"Sorry, sorry," he chuckles as Tony looks between them.  
"Ruin what?" He looks to Natasha for clarification, but she just stares. "What am I missing?"  
"Tony..." Bruce says, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Tony, that's _Steve._ "  
Tony pales. He looks back to Steve, who grins sheepishly.  
"What the fuck."  
Bruce laughs again, and Natasha joins him, snickering quietly. Steve shakes his head.  
"It's a long story," he explains. "But. Yeah. It's me."  
"And we're not lovers," Natasha clarifies before Tony can ask. He doesn't comment, just sits there staring at Steve before rising quickly to his feet.  
"I'll, uh." He waves his hand awkwardly. "I'll be, um. I'll be right back."  
The room is silent as he flees into the hallway, until Natasha and Bruce exchange raised eyebrows and burst out laughing all over again.  
"Wow, subtlety is not his strong suit."  
Bruce shakes his head. "Not in the least. You should hear him in the lab."  
"I don't want to know," Natasha interrupts, raising her hand. Bruce grimaces.  
"Believe me, I understand."  
They both seem to simultaneously realize that Steve is still in the room and turn to look at him. He stares at them in utter confusion.  
"What just happened?

No one sees Stark again until dinner, when they all decide to order pizza and watch a movie together. Clint is still on a mission with SHIELD and Thor is on Asgard, so it's just the four of them.  
Bruce and Natasha still haven't explained the situation to Steve, who is becoming increasingly agitated by their knowing glances and snickers. Natasha feels bad for him, but really, if he was even a little more observant, he'd have figured it out by now. Because there isn't a single person left on the team who doesn't notice the chemistry between him and Stark. From the start, there was sexual tension you could cut with a knife, as Bruce had once put it when ranting to Natasha.  
"Seriously. 'I'm starting to want you to make me?' Who says that?"  
She stared at him. "They actually said that?"  
"Tony did," he said darkly. "While they were fighting. I was so uncomfortable. It felt like they were going to start fucking on the lab table."  
It's gotten worse since New York. After Stark's stunt with the missile Steve went from hating everything he stood for to practically idolizing the man. And Stark's constant flirting was still completely lost on him. It would be kind of cute if it wasn't so frustrating to watch.  
"What are we watching tonight?" Stark is the last to enter the living room as they all gather for their weekly movie night. He flops down on the couch beside Steve, reaching for a slice of pizza.  
"Where are we on the list?"  
The List is a compilation of the most important movies of the past six decades. It's been compiled by the entire team in the time since Steve was unfrozen, and they've made it their mission to make him sit through the whole thing. He agrees, since he's always liked movies and he likes seeing them bond as a team.  
"We watched Moulin Rouge last night, so cross that off," says Natasha. She and Bruce were allowed to include a limited number of what Stark considered to be "chick flicks." That definitely qualified.  
"Okay, so that leaves us with..." Stark flips through a document on one of his tablets. "Ooh, Labyrinth is on here."  
"David Bowie in tight leather pants? Count me in," says Natasha.  
Stark grins. "Alright, one magical goblin king dick bulge coming right up."  
It takes about half an hour for their movie night to devolve into a conversation about how tight Bowie's pants are. After Steve groans half-jokingly about it being a musical, they fall silent until Stark blurts out, "Alright seriously, how does he move in those?"  
"Really, though," Bruce agrees. "And I thought the Black Widow costume was bad."  
"At least I don't have a dick," Natasha retorts, and the others murmur in agreement. "Cap, on the other hand..."  
Steve blushes. "It's not like I designed it."  
"No, Coulson did." Bruce snorts.  
"Explains a lot."  
There's a pause, and Stark mutters, "Goblin King could get it, though."  
Natasha and Bruce murmur in agreement, but Steve looks at Tony in confusion. "I thought you were straight?"  
Bruce and Natasha make simultaneous choking noises. Tony snorts. "Really?" the three of them say in unison.  
Steve looks embarrassed. "I...yeah. Was I wrong?"  
Tony puts a hand on his shoulder. "Steve, buddy, the entire world has known I swing both ways for at least three years. No one was surprised, either."  
Steve looks down at his lap. "...oh."  
Natasha and Bruce exchange withering glances. _He's lucky he's cute,_ Natasha says silently.  
"Is anyone on this team straight?"  
"No," answers Bruce automatically, and okay, that answers that question. Natasha looks at him quizzically, and he shrugs.  
"Well there you go," says Stark, and stands up. "Who wants popcorn?"

After the movie, Natasha and Bruce both make excuses to leave, leaving Steve alone with Tony. He sighs. He has a feeling he knows what they're doing, and he doesn't like it.  
His mind goes back to the fantasy he'd had a few nights earlier, and he feels his cheeks heating up. He's never been particularly uncomfortable around Tony before, but that's the kind of thing that's hard not to think about once it happens. It tends to make things a little awkward.  
"Just you and me, eh Capsicle?" Tony says with a grin. "Hey, here's an idea. Why don't you tell me how you got like this?" He gestures to Steve's body.  
Steve sighs. "It was on a patrol mission." He shifts awkwardly. "I'm not quite sure who did it, but it was some sort of magic. They're working on finding whoever it was."  
"Hopefully not too soon." Steve blushes, trying to ignore the way Tony's looking at him. "Does it go...all the way down?"  
Steve almost chokes. "...yes."  
Tony whistles. "Damn."  
Steve is suddenly hyper aware of how close their bodies are. Tony's arm is pressed flush against his, and he's leaning ever so slightly into Steve's personal space. Steve wonders errantly if he's like this with everyone.  
"Well whoever it was, they did a hell of a job on you." He just never stops. Luckily, Steve has regained his senses enough to respond.  
"Bet you say that to all the girls."  
Tony chuckles, nudging Steve's thigh with his knee. "Just the pretty ones."  
Steve realizes that he's moved his face in closer. They're inches apart now. He looks up at Tony through his lashes.  
"You really think I'm pretty?" he says, his voice almost a whisper.  
Tony stares back at him, eyes fixated on his mouth. Steve bites his lower lip, then decides, fuck it. He leans in, closing the gap between them.  
The kiss is soft and gentle, and lasts for only a few seconds before Steve draws back. Tony surges forward, capturing his lips again, harder this time. Steve gasps softly against his lips, and he feels Tony's hand in his hair, pulling his face closer. Tony deepens the kiss, tongue darting out across Steve's lower lip, and Steve moans, leaning into him.  
Steve slips a hand under Tony's shirt before he realizes what he's doing and freezes. Tony pulls back, looking at him with surprise.  
"What's wrong?"  
"I-I don't..." Steve stammers, his brain still not fully functioning. "Should we really be doing this?"  
"Maybe not here," Tony says, but he's backing off. "Do you not want to?"  
"I...I don't know."  
"Alright." Tony clears his throat and draws back, straightening himself. Steve pretends not to notice the obvious bulge in his pants.  
"Okay."  
"I'm gonna head off to bed then, yeah?" Tony manages a small smile. Steve returns it.  
"Yeah. Goodnight, Tony."  
"Night, Cap."  
Steve watches him walk away, and he suddenly realizes what he's just done. With a groan, he flops facefirst down onto the couch.  
"I'm an idiot."


	5. Chapter 5

Natasha doesn't see Steve until late the next day, when he wanders downstairs to find her in the communal kitchen.  
"Morning, sunshine," she says with a smirk, turning to face him. Her smile drops when she sees the look on his face.  
"What's wrong?"  
"Nothing," he says, but she narrows her eyes.  
"You're still a terrible liar."  
He sighs and flops into a chair, head in his hands. "I might have done something really fucking stupid."  
"Spit when you should have swallowed?" As expected, the euphemism is totally lost on him, and she shakes her head. Turning away from the sandwiches she was making, she sits at the table opposite him, giving him her full attention. "Seriously, what happened?"  
He sighs deeply, steeling himself. She waits. Finally, "Tony kissed me."  
Natasha stares, blinking up at him. "I...don't see how that's stupid."  
Steve groans, his face hitting the table. He talks into his arms. "I panicked and shoved him away."  
Natasha's eyes widen. "You WHAT?!"  
"I'm a fucking idiot," Steve mumbles, and Natasha shakes her head.  
"Yeah, you are." Steve looks up at her with a pained look. She smiles. "But it's okay, cause you're cute." He laughs humorlessly, shaking his head. "Look, you're into him, right?"  
Clearly, he doesn't see the point in denying it any longer. He swallows hard and nods.  
"There you go. Now you go find him and do what you should have done seven fucking months ago when this whole sexual-tension bullshit first started."  
"I think I may have already shot that horse in the face," he says, and Natasha clicks her tongue.  
"Come on, Stevie. Have faith in yourself." That seems to stir something in Steve, and he sits up, meeting her eyes. "At the very least, invite him up for lunch. I made all these sandwiches."  
He takes a deep breath. "Okay."  
"That's the spirit." She smiles, standing up and returning to her sandwiches. "He's down in his workshop. Jarvis will let you in."  
Steve nods and she hears the sound of his footsteps retreating towards the elevator. She chuckles to herself. If Stark and the Captain don't get their shit together real soon, she vows to make it her personal mission to do something about it herself.  
She's left to her thoughts for a while as she continues making lunch. She finds herself humming jovially as she works. Tonight, if all goes as planned, Clint will be returning from a mission, and Thor plans to stop in for a visit. It will be the first time the team has all been together for a few weeks. Needless to say, she's excited.  
Her thoughts are interrupted when her phone rings. She sighs and draws it from her back pocket, checking the display. It's Fury. She sets it on speaker and lays it down on the counter.  
"Romanoff."  
Fury heaves a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. _We have located the culprit behind what has happened to Captain Rogers._  
She can hear the obvious distress in his voice, and she smiles in spite of herself. Fury is really not enjoying this particular mission.  
"Who was it?" She pauses before adding, "And are they going to change him back?"  
Truth be told, she likes this new version of Steve. But she doesn't want him in this state if it makes him uncomfortable.  
 _She calls herself Amora. We have her captured._ Christ, she can _hear_ him pinching the bridge of his nose. This can't be anything good.  
She asks again. "Is she going to change him back, sir?"  
Fury lets out a long sigh. _Not exactly._ She's about to ask for clarification when he adds, _It would seem Captain Rogers has been placed under some sort of spell. There is only one way that this particular spell can be broken._  
Fury sounds like he's going to explode. Natasha can't wait to hear this.  
"And what way is that, sir?"

Steve enters the workshop slowly, and sure enough, there's Tony. He's deeply engrossed in some elaborate project, his music blaring, and he doesn't even seem to notice Steve entering. Steve looks around for a moment. Modern technology has grown on him, and it tends not to faze him anymore, but he's always mesmerized by Tony's 3D displays. Maybe it's the fact that Tony interacts so effortlessly with them that they seem like a part of the room itself, almost like magic. He stares transfixed at the models floating in midair for a moment before he remembers why he came down here.  
"Nat's making sandwiches," he says as an introduction, and Tony jumps.  
"Jesus, Cap," he breathes, and Steve winces.  
"Sorry." Tony waves his hand and the music volume returns to a reasonable level. Steve steps forward, studying Tony's face. He looks exhausted. "How long have you been down here?"  
Tony scrubs a hand over his face. "I dunno...Jarvis?"  
"About 17 hours and 46 minutes, sir."  
"Damn," Steve says before he can stop himself. "Have you even slept?"  
"Slept? No, that's not really something I...look, I'm busy, so just...gimme a minute?"  
Steve realizes that Tony isn't looking him in the eyes. He considers arguing, but decides it isn't worth it and lets out a sigh.  
"You're welcome to join us for lunch."  
Tony nods. "Yeah, yeah, that's...that sounds good. I'll be right up." He forces a smile, directed at the wall behind Steve, and Steve can tell he's lying.  
Steve is about to leave, to just give up and maybe try again later, but as he reaches the door Natasha's words ring in his head.  
" _Come on, Stevie. Have faith in yourself._ "  
They're amplified by the echo of another voice, long forgotten, one he knew far too well. Those same words, telling him to keep going, because that's what he does. He doesn't back down, even if it's unwise or completely fucking insane.  
Or if it's Tony.  
He spins around, steeling himself. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, and he isn't sure at first that Tony can hear him, but his hands stop moving. Steve clears his throat. "About last night."  
Tony turns to look at him, flashing a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Nah, it's fine. I got the wrong idea. Nothing you need to apologize for."  
"You didn't," Steve says automatically, and Tony frowns. Steve backpedals. "I mean, uh. You didn't get the wrong idea." Why is this so hard for him to say?  
"What are you talking about?"  
"I want to. I mean, I did want to. Last night." Steve sighs. "And I still, uh. I still do. Want to. If...if you want to."  
Tony blinks at him, trying to process all this. "You...want to."  
"Can I kiss you?" Steve blurts, and yeah, that gets the point across. Tony stares for a moment, and then he _laughs_.  
"You're...you're actually asking _permission_ to..." He takes a deep breath and composes himself. "For God's sake, what do you want, a fucking written invitation?"  
He's barely finished his sentence before Steve crosses the space between them, grabbing the front of Tony's shirt and crashing their lips together.  
Tony lets out a soft "mmph" at the impact, but he responds soon enough, reaching up to fist his hands in Steve's long hair. He tugs gently, and Steve moans, leaning into his touch. Their bodies pressed closely together, they step back clumsily until Steve's back is hitting the wall, his arm pinned by Tony's grip, and Tony's mouth is on his throat.  
He arches into him, a low moan escaping his throat. Tony's other hand wanders and tugs at the waistband of his jeans, and he's suddenly glad that he decided to wear reasonably nice underwear. He uses his free hand to undo the fly of his jeans and help Tony get them off. Tony's hand slips into his panties and it's just like in his fantasy and god, he can't even begin to control the noises he's making now.  
Tony lets go of his arm in favor of sliding a hand under Steve's shirt. Steve gets the hint and pulls it over his head with surprising ease, tossing it off into the corner of the room. Tony stares.  
"God, you're beautiful," he whispers in awe, and Steve whines.  
"Touch me," he hisses, and Tony wastes no time in obliging. His fingers slide easily into Steve, and he stares him in the eyes as he strokes, hands doing everything Steve had done alone in his bedroom, imagining Tony doing all this and more, except that he's more practiced, more skilled, and Steve's coming apart in his hands.  
"Wait," Tony says, and Steve whimpers as he pulls his hand away, but then he's hoisting Steve up by the waist and kissing him again, and maybe he could get used to that. He's shoved down on the couch behind them, and Tony drops to his knees, trailing kisses down Steve's body. He tugs at the hem of the panties, sliding them down to his knees. Steve gasps as Tony's hands grip his thighs and his tongue slides across the wetness between them. Steve's head falls back and he grips the sides of the couch, resisting the urge to reach for Tony's hair.  
He can already tell that he isn't going to last very long. Tony's good at this, and his tongue teases Steve's clit with practiced skill, and when Steve looks back down at him there's a wicked smile in his eyes as he carefully slides two fingers into Steve, curling them against his center.  
Steve barely manages to gasp out "Fuck, Tony, I'm gonna--" before he's seeing stars, legs shaking with the force of his orgasm. He moans loudly and rocks his hips against Tony, riding out the shockwaves. He collapses back on the couch, breathing heavily, and Tony draws back his fingers, licking them off sensually. Steve whimpers again.  
"God, Tony, that was--" Tony cuts him off with a rough kiss, and he can taste himself of Tony's lips, and that should not turn him on as much as it does. He kisses back hungrily, already ready to go again. His hands find their way under Tony's shirt, and he slides it off, breaking the kiss only briefly. He grinds up against him, realizing too late that Tony's pants are still on.  
He reaches for the fly and Tony's one step ahead of him, drawing back on his heels and removing his belt, not taking his eyes off Steve. His pupils are blown, face flushed, and his mouth is bright red and swollen. Steve finds it unspeakably attractive.  
He shimmies out of his jeans with some help from Steve, and as soon as he can he's kissing him again, hips rocking against him. Steve locks his legs around Tony's waist and arches into him, his mouth finding the hollow of Tony's throat. He bites down on the sensitive flesh, and Tony yelps, tightening his grip on Steve's hips.  
"God, I need you to fuck me," Steve whimpers in his ear, and Tony is more than happy to oblige. He slips his fingers inside Steve, and Steve moans, kissing his neck again as he fingers him. His fingers are replaced by something much larger, and he draws back to look Steve in the eyes.  
"This okay?" He says, and Steve nods vigorously.  
"Just do it, please, I need you in--oh god _yes_."  
Tony pushes into him slowly, eyes sliding shut as he lets out a small moan. Steve rolls his hips, getting used to the feeling of Tony's cock inside him. His hand is on the small of Tony's back, and he pulls him closer, urging him forward.  
Tony gets the hint and he starts moving, slowly at first but picking up as Steve urges him on. He whispers in Tony's ear, a litany of "god, yes, just like that, harder, please, oh _Tony_..."  
"Does that feel good, baby?" Tony says, his voice low and husky. Steve nods, too far gone for words. "I wanna make you feel beautiful..."  
Steve moans loudly, and he knows he's close again, nearing his second orgasm of the night. Tony notices and grins.  
"Are you gonna come, baby? God, you come so pretty for me."  
Just like in Steve's fantasies, Tony has a filthy mouth, and his whispering in Steve's ear is what does it for him. He cries out, Tony slamming into him as he comes again, fingernails digging sharply into Tony's back. Tony's not far behind, and he comes with a shudder and a gasp of "Steve..." and Steve practically _melts_.  
They lay there, still for a moment, catching their breath. Tony pulls out gently and collapses onto Steve, nuzzling his neck. Steve laughs breathlessly and curls an arm around Tony's shoulders, pulling him close.  
"That was incredible," he says with a laugh, and Tony hums in agreement. Steve looks down at him. He has to be exhausted. Steve straightens out his legs and adjusts so that Tony's lying comfortably between them. He wraps his other arm around Tony and gently strokes his hair. Tony mutters something unintelligible before drifting off to sleep in Steve's arms. Steve smiles fondly. He's pretty tired too, now that he thinks about it. He figures a nap won't hurt. Natasha and her sandwiches can wait.

After an especially hilarious phone call with Director Fury in which she has learned just what it takes to push the man past his limits, Natasha finds herself assigned to the task of finding Steve to plan out their next move. Which, from the looks of it, will not be an easy one.  
Whatever game this Amora is playing, Natasha is pretty sure she doesn't want to be involved. Because for some ungodly, fucked-up-beyond-belief reason, she hadn't stopped at transforming Steve into a woman. No, she had put a spell on him that couldn't be reversed unless he--  
Well, Natasha thinks as she reaches the entrance to Stark's workshop, maybe that won't be so hard after all.  
She can't see much past the machinery, but she does see a huge leather couch on the opposite wall, on which Steve and a remarkably bare-assed Stark are currently asleep.  
She shakes her head, unable to suppress her delight. Good old Steve.  
She manages to sneak her way across the workshop without making enough noise to wake either of them. She suspects that Stark could sleep through a hurricane at this point, but Steve's a war vet, and with super serum-enhanced senses to boot.  
Sure enough, when she reaches the couch, it's obvious that the spell is broken. Steve has returned to his Dorito-shaped self, a fact which he seems blissfully unaware of as he sleeps it off under Stark, both of them snoring lightly. Natasha smiles in spite of herself. The whole thing is kind of sweet, actually.  
She briefly considers waking Steve up, but decides that it would be more humiliating for him than anything else, so she retreats out of the workshop as quietly as she entered, leaving them to figure it out on their own.  
When she reaches the communal floor again, she pulls out her phone, dialing Fury's number.  
 _Yes, Agent Romanoff?_  
She can't hide the glee in her voice as she says, "Captain Rogers has been returned to normal, sir."  
It's a long time before Fury responds, and when he does, he sounds like he's in physical pain. _Let the record show that I have no interest in knowing the how or the why._  
"I can assure you that I was not involved, sir."  
 _No further reports will be necessary._ He hangs up the phone.  
She smiles as she pockets it. Yeah, this mission was one for the books.  
She thinks back to the ridiculous smile on Steve's face as he held Stark, who was practically cuddling Steve.  
Maybe more than one mission was accomplished today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I'm not used to writing hetero?
> 
> There will be one more chapter for this, followed by a short epilogue. I apologize for the constantly changing chapter count. I should have left it at ?, but I prefer to have some structure, even if I just throw it to the wind in the end.


	6. Chapter 6

Steve wakes up to Tony snoring into his chest.  
He smiles warmly, pressing his lips to Tony's forehead. Tony shifts slightly in his sleep but doesn't wake up. Steve's smile widens. He isn't sure how long they've been down here, but he does know that Tony desperately needs the rest, and he's glad to see him taking care of himself for once.  
It takes him a moment of regaining consciousness to fully remember the circumstances that got him here. It takes him another moment to glance down at himself and realize that something is very wrong.  
He's a man again.  
He nearly jumps in surprise, but he remembers the man sleeping on top of him and manages to still himself. Instead he stares in awe, lifting his free arm to examine it. Nope, he's not imagining anything. He's returned to his former self. The only question left is how.  
He suddenly realizes that Natasha is probably upstairs waiting for them, and he still doesn't know how long he's been down here. He knows she's not an idiot, and she's probably worked out what they've been doing by now. He sighs. She'll never let him hear the end of this.  
Ever since New York, when his initial impression of Tony Stark as The Century's Biggest Narcissistic Asshole had been drastically proven wrong, he and Tony had developed what could probably be considered a close friendship. They were both committed to the Avengers in their own way, and when Tony had suggested (at Pepper's request) that they all move into Stark Tower, Steve had been one of the first to agree. He and Tony then spent a great deal of time discussing tactics and strategies, usually while Tony worked on modifications to his suits. Steve was the first to have access to the workshop, so that he could see firsthand Tony's plans for the suits. Even after Tony began allowing the others entry, Steve was the one present the most often. It hadn't occurred to him to read further into that until now.  
But for all they had grown close, it never developed into anything more than friendship. Steve never expected it to. He hadn't believed Tony to be anything other than a ladies' man up until a few hours previously. And even then, even with Tony having blatantly stated that he "swings both ways," Steve is having trouble believing it. Because while Steve has spent the past year falling hard for Tony, Tony hasn't shown a desire for anything more than what they already have.  
Yet suddenly, that all changed when Steve became a woman.  
He glances down at Tony's sleeping form and sighs. No use worrying about all that now. Especially when there's still the issue of how he got like this in the first place. He still hasn't heard from Fury or Natasha who exactly was responsible for the initial transformation, let alone what they were supposed to do to fix it. And now it's somehow been fixed without him even being aware of it? He hadn't even felt a change in his sleep, and as much as it had hurt him when he first got the serum, that alone was suspicious. Fucking magic.  
He gingerly slides his arm out from underneath Tony, wriggling free of him. Tony barely stirs and Steve kisses him gently on the forehead, stroking his hair. "I'll be back, okay?" he whispers, getting to his feet. "Get some rest."  
He realizes that he's still naked around the same time that he spots his discarded clothes. There's no way they're going to fit him now. He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. It's a damn good thing he'll never have to deal with those again. For now, he opts for grabbing Tony's pants, skipping the shirt altogether, and stealthily heading for the elevator, leaving Tony asleep on the couch.  
He reaches the main floor and is glad to see that it's still light out. Natasha and Bruce are seated at the kitchen table, talking in hushed voices. Steve clears his throat before entering, not really in the mood to accidentally overhear whatever it is they're talking about. Sure enough, when they see him enter, the conversation stops.  
"Morning, Cap," Natasha drawls, smirking. Steve fixes her with a glare.  
"What's going on?" he demands, hands on his hips.  
"With your body?" She quirks an eyebrow, her smile spreading. "Guess you just got lucky."  
Bruce snorts, trying to hide his laughter as Steve turns his glare to him.  
"Fury called," he explains, fighting to keep his voice steady. "They caught the guy who did it. Well, girl. Her name's Amora."  
Steve turns back to Natasha. "Why didn't you tell me?"  
"You were busy," she says knowingly. His cheeks turn pink. "Didn't want to wake you loverboys. And it doesn't matter anyway, cause you're all fixed now."  
"How?" he says, still authoritative despite the blush creeping across his face.  
Natasha grins even wider. She nods over Steve's shoulder. "Ask him."

Tony's woken up alone plenty of times, but usually that's because he went to bed alone. One of the benefits of not sleeping like a normal human is that he never has to deal with any awkward morning-afters. But when he decides to actually sleep with someone after having sex with them, he usually expects to wake up with them as well. And when he doesn't, it hurts more than he'd care to admit.  
"Jarvis, what time is it?" he grumbles, sitting up clumsily.  
"Five forty-six PM, sir."  
Shit. He's been asleep for almost five hours.  
Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he looks around, surveying the workshop. The damage is minimal - they hadn't knocked anything over or broken any tables. He remembers shoving Steve against the wall, and his cock twitches. He'd wanted to fuck him against it, but they hadn't gotten to that. Maybe later.  
He glances at the floor and realizes that all of Steve's clothes are still on the floor. If he's not here, he must be running around naked somewhere. That, or...  
Sure enough, he sees his T-shirt crumpled alone with no pants in sight. Fuck. It's a good thing he has his under-suit gear down here. He grabs his shirt and pads over to the closet, slipping on his black sweatpants before heading upstairs.  
When he reaches the main floor, he realizes too late that the fact that his shirt was still in the workshop means that Steve is walking around without one. He doesn't have time to process what that means before he's standing in the elevator door staring at Steve, now his old self and very, very shirtless.  
He stares for much longer than strictly necessary and it takes him a moment to register Natasha's voice saying, "Ask him."  
Steve turns around to look at him, blushing fiercely. He thinks fleetingly that it's adorable before he realizes that Natasha was referring to him. "Ask me what?"  
"What got me back to normal," Steve explains. Tony realizes that that's probably why he came upstairs in the first place. Why he wasn't there when Tony woke up. It's a bit more comforting than the alternative.  
"How should I know?" He stares at them in confusion when Natasha laughs.  
Bruce is shaking his head. "Fury called. Turns out there was a spell. There's only one way to break it. And, uh..." He laughs nervously, running a hand through his hair. "I think you found it."  
Steve turns bright red. "Oh."  
Tony just stares. "So, wait, is this like a...like a 'true love's kiss' kind of thing?"  
Natasha bursts out laughing. Bruce chuckles, shaking his head. Steve looks like he could punch them. Or die of embarrassment.  
"Sure, if you want to believe that." Natasha grins at Steve, who just sighs. She claps her hands to her thighs and stands up. "On that note, I have to go make dinner. Congrats on your de-feminization, Stevie."  
She practically skips away, leaving Steve standing with Tony and a very uncomfortable Bruce.  
He clears his throat. "Right, um...I have...something I better..."  
"Just go," Steve says with a sigh, and relief washes over Bruce as he scurries away. Tony watches to make sure he's gone and then turns back to Steve.  
"At ease, soldier."  
Steve turns to face him, and he's still blushing fiercely, but his defensive stance has relaxed some. "Sorry," he says with a heavy sigh. "She can be insufferable at times."  
Tony snorts. "I know the feeling." He looks back up at Steve, giving him a gentle smile before he grins and says, "So does this mean I'm your true love?"  
Fortunately, Steve recognizes it as a joke, and he laughs. "I bet Nat would love that." He looks up, meeting Tony's eyes. "Would you want to be? Even if that breaks the spell?"  
It's a joke, Tony knows it is, and yet he can hear a hint of fear in Steve's voice, as if that's exactly what he thinks will happen. As if Tony only wanted him because he was a girl. And damn if that isn't the stupidest thing Tony has ever heard.  
Tony responds by wrapping an arm around Steve's neck and pulling him in for a kiss. His face is hard, all strong angles and muscle, but his lips are soft and yielding, hardly different from when he was a girl. He leans into it, a soft moan escaping into Tony's mouth, and Tony draws him closer, their bodies pressing together.  
Steve breaks the kiss, hands reaching up to cradle Tony's face and press their foreheads together. "I guess that answers that," he says breathlessly, and Tony laughs.  
"I already told you I was into guys." His hands wander down Steve's back, feeling the tight muscles shift as he leans into the touch. "And you."  
Steve laughs, shaking his head. "You never seemed to be. Back before all this."  
Tony shrugs. "I thought you were straight."  
"Really?" Steve says, mimicking Tony's response the night before. They both laugh, and their lips meet again, moving with a practiced rhythm.  
Tony grips Steve's back as Steve leans into him, taking advantage of his newly regained size to overpower Tony. Tony lets him, lets himself be pushed until his back is hitting the wall, and hell, if he can't fuck Steve against the wall, maybe he can have the next best thing.  
As he feels Steve's hands on his waist, lifting him up, he wonders if maybe this wasn't the preferable option.  
He hooks his arms around Steve's shoulders as Steve lifts him, pinning him to the wall. He feels Steve's knee between his legs, grinding against him, and he moans, leaning into it. Steve breaks away from his mouth to kiss his jaw, teeth scraping gently against his skin.  
"Fuck, Steve," he gasps out, and Steve moans, grinding harder against him. Steve's pants are sinfully tight, of course they are, they're not even his, and Tony can feel the bulge of his cock against his own leg. Steve ruts against him, one hand reaching down to unzip the jeans, and he shimmies them down on his hips, grabbing his cock and pumping hard. He lets go of Tony and Tony drops his sweatpants as soon as he can reach them, barely registering what's happening before Steve is on his knees, staring up at him with wide eyes, his swollen lips parted as he catches his breath. His pupils are blown, and that blush is creeping all the way down his chest.  
His gaze flits down briefly before his tongue darts out, licking a long stripe over Tony's length. Tony shudders as Steve's lips wrap around the head of his cock, sucking gently, and he looks up at Tony through his eyelashes, and Tony almost loses it. His eyes sliding shut, he gasps out a long "Fuuuuuuck," and Steve takes in more of him, swallowing him down and loving it.  
Too soon, he pulls back, leaving Tony writhing against the wall as he gets to his feet. Tony whimpers at the lack of contact, but Steve grabs his wrists and pins them above his head, kissing him fiercely, and okay, he's being dominated by Captain fucking America and that's a fantasy he's had since he was fifteen, so he takes all he can get, arching his back into Steve and moaning against his lips. Steve grabs both his wrists with one hand and wraps the other around their cocks, rutting against him and pumping hard. His mouth finds Tony's neck again, and he bites down, and Tony knows he's going to have marks, and he doesn't care, everyone already knows anyway, might as well make it fun.  
"Wanna fuck you," Steve growls against his neck, biting harder.  
"God, yes," Tony gasps, bucking into Steve's hand. "Do it. God, do it, fuck me, Steve."  
Steve moans, and Tony feels his lips curl into a smile. "Gonna make you scream."  
Screaming, that might not be such a good idea, since it's the communal floor and the others can't have gone far, but since when is Tony capable of that kind of logic? Hearing Steve talk dirty is probably the hottest thing he'll ever experience, and that alone is enough to make him willing to do whatever Steve wants.  
In the end, they never do get to the fucking, because it's not long before Tony comes with a shout, yelling out a litany of curses and Steve's name and hoping to god that no one is within earshot because he's pretty sure he couldn't keep quiet if he tried. Steve follows immediately after, much quieter but not any less vocal. He gasps out a whisper of "fuck, yes, _Tony_..." as he spills over his fist and Tony's legs.  
They stand there for a moment, gasping for breath, and Steve laughs. "Natasha was right."  
"Wait, what?"  
Steve looks up at him. "That was better when I was a girl."  
He tries to think of a response to that, but Steve stops him by kissing him, smiling against his lips. He rests his forehead against Tony's, and Tony lets his eyes slide shut, just enjoying the contact and the way Steve's thumb is gently stroking his hip.  
Finally, he sighs, nodding at his legs. "We should probably clean that up."  
Steve looks down and groans. "Goddammit."

To his credit, Tony manages to get everything cleaned up and put his pants back on before tackling Steve, crawling on top of him on the couch and kissing him hard. Steve responds eagerly, hands roving over Tony's back and coming to rest on his ass. He squeezes, and Tony yelps softly, pulling back to look at him.  
"Whoa there, Super Serum," he chides, and Steve smiles innocently. "Us normal folk need some time to recuperate."  
"Aw, so I gotta wait to fuck you senseless?" He pouts, batting his eyelashes.  
Tony narrows his eyes. "You have a filthy mouth, Captain."  
"You love it."  
He kisses Tony again, but slower this time, not planning to take it any further. He's fine keeping it to just this - him and Tony, lying together on the couch, kissing lazily in the afternoon sunlight. It feels nice, he decides. Almost like home.  
He wraps his arms around Tony and brings one hand to cup his face. Tony leans into the touch, sighing against his lips. He draws back just slightly and looks Steve in the eyes.  
"Steve," he says, his voice low, but he doesn't get to finish that statement. The elevator dings, and the door opens to reveal Clint and Thor. Tony sits bolt upright, practically jumping off of Steve and onto his knees, whipping around to face them.  
"Jarvis, a little warning?" he says, annoyed and clearly flustered.  
"I am sorry, sir, but since it is a communal floor..."  
Steve laughs at the hint of exasperation in the AI's voice. He slides his legs out from under Tony and props himself up on his elbows.  
"Welcome home, guys!"  
Clint's eyebrows have reached his hairline. He stares at them wordlessly, giving Steve a quick nod. Thor just laughs, the sound big and booming. Steve didn't realize how much he'd missed having that around.  
"Thank you, Captain. It is good to see that you and Anthony have become so well-acquainted.  
Steve blushes. "Right. Thanks."  
As if on cue, Natasha enters. Clint tears his eyes away from Steve to look back at her.  
"Clint," she says with the barest hint of relief in her voice. He gives her a warm smile that Steve can't help but emulate. She looks up at Thor. "Welcome back to Earth."  
"Thank you, Natasha. It is good to see you all again."  
"Dinner's ready," she calls, looking over at Steve and Tony with a knowing grin. "Will you be joining us this time?"  
Steve rolls his eyes. "Yes, of course."  
"Someone call Bruce," Tony says, climbing down from the couch. "Gotta get the whole family in on this."  
Steve stops for a moment as he's swinging his legs over the side of the couch. He's never heard Tony refer to them as a family before. Their eyes meet for a moment as Natasha is greeting Thor and Clint, and Steve gives Tony a slightly puzzled look. Tony just smiles, a real, genuine smile, and motions for Steve to follow them back to the kitchen.  
He does, without hesitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone for your support of this story. It turns out this is the longest work I've ever written, and it looks to be the first multi-chapter fic I will see through to its very end. This is a big deal for me, and your positive feedback has been instrumental in making that happen. Thank you. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and will enjoy the finale that follows.


	7. Epilogue

Natasha leads the group back to the kitchen, where she’s prepared a full dinner for all of them. She’s more excited than she’s ready to admit for the six of them to be back together again. And, of course, she’s relieved to see Clint again.  
The man in question catches up to her, brushing their fingers together as he passes. She smiles softly.  
“Welcome home,” she whispers, and he smiles.  
“Glad to be here.” He grabs her hand for a fraction of a second, giving it a gentle squeeze, before racing ahead of her into the kitchen.  
Behind them, Tony picks up the end of the line, waiting briefly in the living room for Steve to drag himself off the couch. Steve sidles up to him, hands shoved in his pockets.  
“That was awkward,” Tony says, and Steve laughs.  
“Yeah, well.” He bites his lip and looks sheepishly at Tony. His tone becomes serious. “What’s happening here?” he says in a low voice, almost a whisper.  
“What do you mean?”  
Steve gestures between the two of them. “This. Us. What’s happening?”  
“Oh.” Tony shifts nervously. “I don’t know, really.”  
Their hands brush together, and Steve gently strokes Tony’s wrist with his thumb. Tony leans into it, allowing Steve to grasp his hand gently.  
“I’m yours, if you want me.” Tony looks up at Steve in disbelief. He’s completely serious.  
Tony laughs, breathless and surprised. “Of course I want you.”  
Steve smiles. “Good.” He squeezes Tony’s hand gently before letting go, slipping into the kitchen. Tony follows him in a daze.  
The others are seated around the kitchen table as Natasha dishes out salads. She’s prepared a full three-course dinner, and apparently done a pretty good job of it. Steve takes the seat net to Thor, giving Tony a warm smile across the table. He returns it and sits between Bruce and Clint, opposite Steve.  
Natasha leans across Clint to finish setting the table, and Steve notices her hand squeezing his shoulder, a small but intimate gesture, and he can’t help but smile. Natasha looks at him quickly, silently mouthing “shh.” He busies himself with the salad dressing as Natasha takes the seat beside him, kicking him playfully under the table.  
“Welcome back, everyone.” Natasha grins. “And congrats on your dick, Steve.”  
Steve blushes and looks down at the table. Tony snorts.  
“Amen to that,” he says, and Bruce makes a choking noise.  
Tony’s foot nudges Steve under the table, and he smirks. Steve shakes his head, laughing silently.  
This is their life now. Thor’s booming laugh as Tony picks at Bruce, pushing his nerves just enough to get a reaction, but not enough to hurt. Clint, silently observing everyone, adding snappy retorts here and there. Natasha and Steve’s playful, flirty banter, even while Natasha sits with her ankle wrapped protectively around Clint’s. And now Steve and Tony, not-so-subtly sneaking glances from across the table.  
“Tony and Steve, please stop eye-fucking across the table. We’ve already seen enough.” Everyone laughs as Bruce gives them both a withering glare.  
“Sorry,” Steve mumbles into his spaghetti. Tony just grins.  
There’s no denying it. They’re a family now. It’s not perfect, and it’s not what anyone in their right mind would call “normal,” but it’s theirs. And between Natasha, Tony, and all the others, Steve can’t see why he would need anything else.


End file.
